FRIDAY

I was delirious on Friday night. This was the first road trip I’ve been on where I’ve had to put in a full eight hours of work before hitting the road – in the past, I’ve taken a half-day at the very least – and let me tell you, I felt it. We were barely out of Louisville before my eyes began to burn.

Jenny and I had made plans to leave Lexington at six, which in our time translates to about 6:45. We missed rush hour, which was a plus, but we also spent the remainder of daylight driving directly west into the sun. Do you think Hanson will reimburse fans for scorched corneas? Hmmm. On more than one occasion, I thanked God that this trip had been Jenny’s turn to drive. Though I’m pretty sure she doesn’t share the sentiment.

At any rate, we knew we wanted to stop at Wendy’s for supper, because we’re traditionalists. Last time we went through Indiana, finding a Wendy’s was like finding the holy grail, so we knew we’d have to stop at the first one we saw. Jenny was convinced there was a Wendy’s in north Louisville, on the opposite side of the river as you head out, so that’s where we planned to stop.

Except, as it turns out, a Northern I-65 Wendy’s doesn’t exist. And since we’re both too hard-headed to choose a different restaurant, we drove for at least another hour before spotting one.


“Our God is an awesome God, he reigns from heaven above…” hahaha.



WE CAN HARDLY CONTAIN OUR EXCITEMENT!


To celebrate this culinary discovery, we decided to do our own ‘gang signs’ picture, inspired by this dude’s video:


White Chicks & Gang Signs



Don’t mess with Texas. Or Kentucky, for that matter.

On a side note, you will notice that in every picture of this nature, my hand looks like a fucked-up claw, or like Danny Devito as The Penguin from the Batman movie. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and I promise my hands look relatively normal in everyday life. Maybe I have an abnormal bone structure that prevents me from properly making gang signs, I don’t know. That’s probably a good thing, though. Heh.



Oh, Wendy’s, how I love thee.


Told you I was a redhead.


I think she looks like little orphan Annie.


So, back to Wendy’s. Inside, I ordered a chicken Caesar salad, baked potato, and chili, woofing it down with incredible speed. The lady in front of us had a giant wedgie, which we found amusing, and the guy at the neighboring table was reading a Bible, which we found a bit frightening.

At that point, it was about nine o’clock EST, and we weren’t even to Indianapolis yet. Christ. We loaded back in the car, I took out my contacts, and we blared “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” on the radio as we hit the interstate again.

Road Trip Mixes are essential listening for trips like these. And most people I know make CDs of their favorite songs; tunes they enjoy, that fit their mood, or that they want to share with others. Jenny and I operate a little differently. When I asked her what she was putting on her CD the night before, she answered with this:

“I’m typing the word ‘sex’ into my Itunes library and throwing on every song that comes up.”

Which is pretty ingenious, if you ask me. My method is a little different. I generally think of the worst, lamest, weirdest, or most hilarious songs I can come up with and add them to the playlist. I really kind of take pride in making awful CDs. Hence why we listened to Tone Loc’s “Funky Cold Medina”, Vanilla Ice’s “Ninja Rap”, Quad City DJ’s “The Train”, and a dozen-plus more gems this time around. And it’s also why we have “The Safety Dance” on every single road trip CD (although seriously, I love that song. It’s my ringtone. Hahaha) After cycling through our mixes, we got out Jenny’s Dr. Demento albums and sang along to “Fish Heads” and the like. Good stuff.

To be honest, I can’t remember a whole lot else about the drive until we got to the outer Chicago area. I hallucinated a toll stop at one point (it ended up being a train station on the opposite side of the road). In Gary, Indiana, Jenny threw in her Jackson 5 CD to honor her hero Michael Jackson. We were eternally grateful when we finally saw the familiar Chicago Skyway Toll Bridge.


A REAL toll… not imaginary.


By the time we finally made it to Stony Island Avenue, the exit for Lis’s apartment, my eyes were burning and Jenny was rambling incoherently.

“If we get into trouble, we can just call Carl Winslow,” she kept saying as we drove the near-deserted streets late into the night. Yeah. The dude from Family Matters. “He’s Chicago’s finest police officer.” I blinked owlishly in reply, and then she pointed to one of those Emergency 911 kiosks next to the sidewalk. “I bet that calls Carl Winslow.”

We arrived at Lis’s shortly after, tired and bedraggled. We somehow managed to stay up awhile to talk to her and coo over her two kitties (Chester & Nutmeg, ♥), who returned the favor by coating us with their fur. Ha.

I slept really well that night. Ha.


SATURDAY MORNING

Jenny got up at 10:30. I did not. Here’s a few small facts about me that don’t add up – I am by far the slowest person in the world when it comes to getting ready in the morning (not because I have a complicated beauty routine, but rather because I move with all the haste of a slug), and yet I always insist on being the last one to actually get in the bathroom. Generally because I want to sleep.

So I didn’t get up until 11:30, at which point I stole a cookie from Lis’s stash because I was ravenous. Since I’m always up for representing my blue-blood brethren, I dressed that day in one of my Kentucky shirts. And shorts, because the Chicago weather was BEAUTIFUL. Really, really perfect.

By the time I was finished getting ready, it was around 12:30 or so. And despite Lis refreshing Hanson.net frequently, we still didn’t know when the walk would be. We assumed it would be at three and headed out for lunch at the Medici, which has possibly the best homemade bread in the entire world.


“Yes, I’ll take some stout anti-Bush sentiment on the side with my burger, please.” Mwa ha ha. On a side note, after we put our bread on this bread platter (a novel idea, right?), a waitress came and took it away, saying, “Girls, this isn’t for your bread, it’s for sale.” WTF? It was sitting at our table! Haha.



Waiting to stuff my face.



Jenny experimenting with her ‘continuous shutter’ setting.


After lunch, we had to figure out how to get downtown. Lis, the thoughtful friend that she is, had gotten us all CTA passes for the weekend so we could take the busses and trains. At around 2:00, we boarded the 6 to head downtown, where we had to transfer to a brown line train.


Random dude at the train stop. Spartan Idol?

By the time the brown line arrived, it was 2:40, and we started to get worried we might miss it or be late. And then we were like, who are we kidding? When has Hanson ever started anything on time in their life? And sure enough, we were fine. The train stop wasn’t far at all from the House of Blues, so we made it far before 3:00. Just in time… to wait in line for another twenty minutes.


Walking towards… the walk.


A short, burly security guard was herding girls into a line and stamping hands. He reminded me of Andre the Giant from The Princess Bride, only a lot less cuddly.




He’s bringin’ sexy back.

There was also a security guard there who reminded me of James Earl Jones, if JEJ was a jackass and wore a neon yellow and black striped shirt in all his movies. Sadly, I don't think we have any pictures of him, so you'll have to use your imagination on that one.




SATURDAY’S WALK

As we walked up to the House of Blues (possibly one of the ugliest venues I’ve ever seen, off topic), I mentally assessed the situation. Madness. Sheer madness. As we were in line waiting, I heard one girl plaintively ask if doing the walk was going to give her priority seating. The security guard snorted and said, “Yeah, you and 400 other people.” At first I thought that was an exaggeration, but now I’m positive that it was an underestimate. I took classes at UK in auditoriums that held 500 people, and the crowd looked way larger than that. The three of us got our hands stamped and patiently joined the end of the ‘regular’ line (at the Chicago HOB, the ‘Pass the Line’ line is on the other side of the building).

As I said before, the walk began a little late, to the surprise of absolutely no one. One minute, we’re all standing in line, and the next, we hear uncontrollable shrieking from the main entrance. Naturally, everyone in our line jetted around the side, heading for the front. As I turned the corner, I marveled at all the fans in attendance, who were swarming around the entrance like bees, entranced by the man with the megaphone.

I’ll be totally honest: the first day of the walk, I did not see Zac or Isaac AT ALL, and I saw Taylor for exactly 2.1 seconds as he turned the corner to begin. And the only reason I did notice him was because he was carrying the megaphone. The crowd was simply too thick to see what was going on.

Here’s something I wish I’d taken a picture of: as we walked the downhill slant of the HOB exit, I noticed that the building on the opposite side of the street had mirror-like paneling. I could see the reflection of the crowd, and I had the fleeting thought that we looked like runners starting the Chicago marathon. People running, darting in and out, jostling and shoving one another for position.

As I said, madness.

Jenny’s much braver than I, not to mention more determined, so she took off to fight with the crowd. Lis and I got separated in the fray, so I just shrugged my shoulders and walked at my normal, leisurely pace. Side note: to give you an indication of how slow I walk, once on campus I was passed up by a man WITH A BROKEN LEG, IN A WALKING CAST. It’s kind of pathetic, really.

However, you can thank Jenny for these great pictures… even if Taylor does look pissed off in every one of them.








I included this one just because of this girl’s desperate expression. Ha.


Peekaboo.


Obligatory butt shot.


“GET ME THE HELL OUT OF THIS CROWD!”




This one makes me laugh EVERY time I look at it.


Isaac pushed this lady the entire walk, I believe, which was quite sweet of him.


Crowd.




Dearbourne Street now has Walking Man stickers ALL over it.


A few people actually lost their shoes… how did this happen??



Okay. Those were Jenny’s pictures… and here is my picture of Taylor.


Where’s Waldo?

He’s in there somewhere. See that tiny megaphone amidst the sea of people? Yeah. As I said, I saw Taylor pass by when he started leading the walk, and that was it. Oh, well.

Lis and I were in the middle-to-last part of the walkers, which was much more spacious. As we neared the first turn, I heard a voice behind me. “I KNOW you!” said a blonde girl, coming up to walk beside me.

“You do?” I asked.

“Yes! Your name is Allison… or Ella… and you’re from Kentucky!”

I initially thought maybe she’d seen my Kentucky shirt and known it was me, but then upon investigation, it turned out to be biteme5, also known as Catie, who’s my friend on LiveJournal and recognized Jenny and I from our various photo exploits.

When we came back around to the House of Blues, the crowd had thinned considerably. At one point, I looked back and I’m not kidding you, Lis and I were DEAD last. We were almost completely separated from the rest of the crowd ahead; there were only maybe three other people walking near us. I was completely confused, because I knew we hadn’t been moving that slow, but later Catie told me that many people simply stopped when we passed the HOB and instead of continuing the walk, got back in line. Or staked out a spot near the finish to get some shots of the guys coming down the homestretch. So that makes me feel slightly better.

About halfway through, Jenny reappeared, tired and worn from battle, but with plenty of picture treasure, as you saw. The three of us finished the walk together, just behind another small group – one tall, dark-haired guy and a few girls. Right at the end of the walk, an officer suddenly appeared and grabbed the guy. “Excuse me, sir,” he growled. “I need to see some identification.” He was taken out of the walk, patted down, and later we heard from security that he’d been cuffed.

Did I mention that the Chicago Walks were madness?


SATURDAY NIGHT

After the walk, we went to little chain called Potbelly for drinks and smoothies before getting back in line. It was right across from the Chicago Theater, and I was surprised to see that none other than Ryan Adams was playing that same night.


Jen Chadd’s muse.

After our respite, Lis returned home because she had things to do and had only planned to do the Sunday night show. Jenny and I wandered back to get in line. Since we’d eaten a large lunch (well, I did, anyway) and just wolfed down smoothies, neither Jenny nor I were very hungry. We contemplated going to the House of Blues restaurant just to get the ‘Pass the Line’ benefit, but when we went to the maitre d, we were told that they were no longer doing Pass the Line for the evening because it was full. Nice. At least that solved the issue for us. Instead, we went back to join the rest of the fans.

Now, waiting in line can be fun, or it can be a pretty miserable experience. This particular evening falls somewhere in the median. After standing on asphalt for so long, strange parts of my body begin to ache – you expect your feet and your lower back to hurt, but the front of my core, around the abdomen, always gets achy, too, which feels a lot like cramps. We tried several times to sit down for relief, only to be told my security that we had to stand up.


Sneaking in a short break from standing.

Apparently, the sight of a few hundred girls waiting in line all day for a concert was a novelty. Dozens of passers-by stopped, confused, and asked what was going on. And inevitably, whenever someone would reply, "Hanson", the inquisitor would say, "Really?" with a look of utter disbelief, laugh, and then just walk away. It started to get really irritating, to be honest. Especially when one girl mocked us -- when told that Hanson was playing, she snorted with derision and turned to her friends, saying in a really loud, disdainful voice, "Hey guys, I was just thinking, you know, if we don't want to go see Ryan Adams tonight, we could just totally go see Hanson instead."

I really wish now that I'd given her a good "Fuck you", because that can be really satisfying when delivered properly. And I'm pretty sure I'd have gotten cheers from the crowd. Hey, I like Ryan Adams, too, you know. Don't act all high and mighty and like you're somehow better than me.

So. As I mentioned in a previous post, we did make friends with one security guard there. “Drake”. Haha. While Andre the Giant and James Earl Jones would just yell at people to get up off the sidewalk, Drake was very apologetic about it. “Ladies,” he said, “I know you’re tired and your feet hurt, but I have to ask you to stand up.”

We spent pretty much the entire time in line talking to Drake. Interesting facts: he was supposed to work merch at the HOB store but got called on for security because of the masses of fans, he was born & raised in Chicago but has Mississippi roots, he has really dry eyes but is allergic to eyedrops, and he likes Jambalaya. Despite having Southern relatives, he found my accent strange. “Girl, your accent’s crazy,” he said out of the blue at one point. “You sound like you’re from Birmingham, Alabama.”

He also loves the Gospel Sunday Brunch at the House of Blues (Which he invited us to attend, as well, but that’s another strange story). He refused to tell us the capacity of the HOB for “legal reasons” (um, isn’t it illegal NOT to post the capacity? Where the hell is the Fire Marshal when you need him?) And oh yeah – he thinks we’re crazy. “You girls are from Kentucky?” he kept asking incredulously. “God, that’s such a long drive!”

And we kept getting that a lot, even from other fans in line. I was confused -- literally, a girl from Australia flew in for the shows, and yet we were the strange, obsessed freaks? Makes me wonder if people don’t even realize where Kentucky is on a map. At least we border Illinois.

It’s interesting to see other people in line and realize that you’ve met them somewhere before. Jenny recognized the reporter from her M&G, the girls in front of me I know I’d seen somewhere else (though they rebuffed me and said they “couldn’t imagine” why I thought they looked familiar). My non-Hanson friends don’t understand this, how fans can group together and become such a close-knit community that there are very few degrees of separation between us all. Kevin Bacon be damned, we should have our own game. Try it once with the girl (or guy) in line behind you while you’re waiting. You’ll be amazed.

The doors opened at seven, and though I’m not sure when we actually started moving to go inside, it didn’t feel very long, especially considering that Pass the Line had priority. When the line moved, we bade goodbye to Drake, telling him we’d see him the next day and prepared to enter. I’d left my camera and purse at home (mistake, since I had to shove all sorts of shit into my pockets), but Jenny had her concert purse, which had to be checked. She pulled out the trusty Cam in a Sock trick (first conceived in Atlanta, Georgia, in April 2006), which worked, to my utter disbelief. But that’s good news for you all, because I relied on her to get a few shots of the concert itself.

The music theater is on the second floor of the building, above the restaurant, which is an odd set-up, in my opinion. Especially because the floor moves. No joke. When everyone jumps up and down, you can feel the floor giving and reacting to all the weight and stress. Drake (who I am fairly sure is not an engineer in his spare time) claimed that the floor had ‘springs’ in it so that it could withstand the weight, but I’m not putting a lot of stock in his answer. Just know that when you and roughly 1300 fans are leaping in unison to “A Minute Without You” at the Chicago House of Blues, you’re gonna feel some bounce.

Once we made it inside, Jenny and I explored a little – one thing I realized is that Pass the Line is really kind of unnecessary unless you’re dead-set on getting a good view in the ‘pit’ (which we weren’t, frankly). Because everywhere else was pretty open. We went to the bars to look around, up the stairs to the balcony, past the tables in the back. We couldn’t decide where to settle.

All around the HOB theater, there are stools lining the bar, at tables in the back, in the balcony along the railing. And those stools have reservation stickers smacked on them, so you can’t sit there unless you had to foresight to reserve it in some way. Except when Jenny and I passed one table in the back, we saw that several stools had “RESERVED FOR DRAKE” stickers slapped on top.

I have no idea why we thought this would even work, but we decided that those seats must have been for our new security buddy Drake (well, I mean, he DID mention he got into the Gospel Brunches free), and that he wouldn’t mind if we sat with him for the show. No one else was at the table, so we simply marched ourselves over and sat down, relieved to be off our feet. Minutes later (though it took him longer than I thought it would), another security guy came up to us and said, “Ladies, you’re not supposed to sit here.”

“But we know Drake!” we said. Seriously, we’re awful. “He’s our friend!”

The security guy just stared at us. “Drake doesn’t exist,” he informed us.

“What!?” And that’s where the conversation completely ceased to make any sense. “What are you talking about? We met him outside!”

“Drake doesn’t exist. It’s just a name we put on the chair to reserve it.”

Damn. So, apparently the name was just a coincidence. And in retrospect, every other table had a last name on it, so I don’t know why we thought they’d just put “Drake” if it was really for him. Well, I mean, it was worth a shot, wasn’t it? “Okay,” we said. “So who is it for?”

“Handicapped people,” he said.

“Okay,” I said, “then why doesn’t it just say it’s reserved for the handicapped?” Personally, that would have made a hell of a lot more sense to me, but that’s just my humble opinion.

“Because it’s reserved for Drake,” he said.

What. The. Fuck.

And with that, Jenny and I just left. Who has time for mind games with a snide House of Blues security guard when you’ve got to find a place to park it before the show starts?

We headed straight for the bar on the left side. Because though I am not a big drinker, I do like a cocktail here and there, and I sure as hell felt like I needed one at that point. Jenny ran to the bar first, and I was a few steps behind her when a familiar voice stopped me -- Catie and her friend Rich, sitting on two of the stools in front of the bar. I stopped to chat, got an Amaretto Sour, and then asked her if we could hover around her for the shows. I mean, it’s a little easier to dance and get into it if you know the people around you – they’re a little more likely to be forgiving if you accidentally knock one of them in the head when you’re swinging your arm in a circle during “Where’s the Love”.

Next to Catie was an empty stool, and then an older man on the other side of it, who sat with his arms crossed. Noticing our conversation, he tapped me on the shoulder. “Are you guys together?” he asked, beckoning to our little group. We replied that we were, and he pointed to the empty stool. “I brought my daughter to the show, but she went down in the pit and she’s not coming back. You can sit here if you want.”

HAAAAAALLELUJAH!

If I didn’t think he’d freak out and send me away with security, I’d have kissed him.



HIGHLIGHTS FROM THE SHOW

Locksley. They have a similar sound to The Strokes, I think, and the boys themselves look like they could be Weezer’s little brothers. And I do mean little – they were so baby-faced. How old are those guys, anyway? I felt like an old, crotchety woman watching them dance and bounce all around the stage.

At any rate, I wholeheartedly approve of Locksley. Of all the Hanson opening bands I’ve seen, they’re by far my favorite. Great sound, energetic, fun, cute (what else did you expect?), and majorly into crowd participation, which feeds right into the Hanson crowd frenzy. If I recall correctly, every song was upbeat, no ballads. They also didn’t play an excessively long set, so they didn’t overstay their welcome. The crowd did seem to love them, especially when they gave us a cover of the Beatles’ “I Saw Her Standing There”. Good stuff. I’m gonna be checking out their album.

I sat for most of Locksley, and Jenny took the stool for the break between sets to give her feet a rest. The HOB was fairly full by that time, but there was still room enough to move around, say, to go to the bathroom or mosey on back to the bar.

You know what? Hanson only took about thirty minutes to come on after Locksley finished. Seriously. I’m as shocked as you are. The guys must have been ready and raring to go. The lights dimmed, the curtains rose, the screams began, and they ripped into “The Great Divide”, which seems to be their standard opener this tour.

Setlist, with my short commentary:

Great Divide – is it bad that I’m not a HUGE fan of this song? I do like it, but it’s just not one of those songs I can listen to ad nauseam. My boyfriend, however, loves it. Which has nothing to do with the show, but I thought it was an interesting fact.

Hey – Oh, Isaac. And when are fans going to learn how to yell ‘Hey’ properly during the offbeat? We’ve been doing it for years, folks. Ha. One of my favorite songs of the night.

Can't Stop – Honestly, it was fun to hear this on L&E because it was one of those older, less-played songs from TTA, but I wasn’t feeling it this time. I’d have rather heard one of the newer numbers.

Been There Before – Fantastic. I felt a little crowd-bonding going on.

Georgia – Even more fantastic. And was it just me, or did Taylor look directly up at Natalie during the opening chord progression? I don’t think I imagined it. Ooey-gooey sweet.

Crazy Beautiful – THIS is one of those songs I could listen to ad nauseam, playing it over and over on repeat until my ears bled. And I loved hearing it yet again – it’s just impossibly fun. Taylor did the crazy sped-up ending, which I don’t remember them doing on L&E.

Hole in My Life – SEXY. Oh, so sexy and funky. Taylor moaning the “…in my liiiiiiiiiiiiife” refrain at the end is one of the hottest things I’ve ever heard.

Being Me – In light of Isaac’s recent medical problems, I feel guilty hating on him too much. So I’m gonna go with a neutral “no comment” here.

I've Been Down – I really like this song. The aggressiveness of the chorus with the lighter verses makes it really interesting, I think. If I recall correctly, they used this song to officially start off their acoustic set (Isaac’s solo aside).

Go – I dunno. I think I will forever compare any modern live version of this with the Zac & Bleu live bootleg from a few years back… and Bleu’s plaintive wail is what makes the song for me.

MMMBop – How about another “no comment”? haha.

Strong Enough to Break – At this point, Jenny got fidgety and commented that they were starting to put her to sleep. I agreed – overall, the entire acoustic set felt like it was a bit lacking. To be honest, I don’t even remember SETB… what was I doing???

Every Word I Say – Still one of the sweetest, most powerful songs I’ve ever heard. The crowd immediately perked up at this. Why, oh why was this song not on Underneath?!

Blue Sky – Oh, yeah. Zac started a beat and the crowd immediately recognized it, chanting the “oooooh-oooh” chorus before Taylor could even instruct us. See, Taylor? We’re so damn good we don’t even need your help. This was another highlight of the night for me.

If Only – Again, this is a song I like, but that I don’t love… and it really feels like I’ve heard it at EVERY show I’ve been to. It was fun, but lacked the same impact that it used to have for me personally.

A Minute Without You – In which the HOB theater floor became a rippling wave of seismic activity. Ha. It’s pure fluff, but so fun – I actually think this was probably the most well-received song of the entire set list.

Oh! Darling – Another nice cover, this time with Zac on lead. His high-pitched voice suited the song well. Although from where I was sitting, I couldn’t see Zac at all, because he was directly blocked by Isaac, so it really lost some of the effect.

Penny and Me – Are we ever going to be able to keep up with the words as well as Taylor? Ha.

Running Man – I’m not a fan of this song on the album, and not a fan of it live. It just does nothing for me.

Let Love Rule – A good cover, but when Hanson sings it, it’s just a nice, solid rock song. When Lenny Kravitz sings it, it’s a sultry, sexual anthem. So while I did enjoy it, Lenny keeps the prize on this one. Sorry, guys.

This Time Around – Everyone got to do the ‘round’ of the chorus during the end, although it wasn’t the absolute singfest that it was on UAL.

Lost Without Each Other – I didn’t recognize the drumbeat at first (along with many other people), but when Isaac ripped into the first guitar lick, the crowd went crazy. This is another song, like Crazy Beautiful, that just never gets old for me.

ENCORE:

Something Going Round – Another one off the new album that I was glad to hear. It wasn’t quite up to “Blue Sky” par, but it was a pretty good way to end the evening.


It was surreal to see the guys onstage again after two years, even though I keep saying that it doesn’t feel like that tour happened that long ago. It took me several minutes to get acclimated to the environment, if that made sense… it’s almost like sensory overload. The beautiful boys onstage, the lights changing and flashing, the smell & taste of alcohol, bumping up against other fans (or in some cases, shoved & punched), impossibly loud music, and impossibly loud screaming. It’s just a different than other concerts I’ve been to, and I can’t explain it with just words.

That being said, the actual concert itself was okay. They played 23 songs – which I thought was pretty amazing, so we certainly got our money’s worth of music (AND finished safely before curfew at 11:30). As Jenny put it later, “I had a good time, but it wasn’t my favorite show.” The crowd, though appropriately excited and animated for certain parts of the evening, didn’t seem as crazy as some I’ve seen in the past, either. Of course, that could also be a good thing. However, Chicago #2 was still to come…

Jenny, as I said, got her camera past security, but she waited until the very end to take pictures, because we witnessed the HOB guard dogs snatching people’s cameras all around us (including one really hilarious guy behind me who announced to everyone, “Man, I am just the right amount of drunk right now!”). If you were in the pit, they couldn’t take your camera away just because the sheer volume of people – instead, they just shined a flashlight right in your eyes to make you stop. But if you were on the outskirts, they’d actually come up to you. So she had to be careful. But we figured, what are they going to do at the very end of the show? So Jenny went camera-crazy during the encore, and especially during Taylor’s impassioned speech about Tom’s Shoes afterwards.




















They’re singing a little “Great Divide” a capella there at the end. After they walked offstage, the curtain rose and the crowd began to disperse. Jenny had started the tab with her credit card, so she went to pay it… and we discovered that we’d $7.25 apiece for our drinks, an Amaretto Sour (me) and Bourbon & Coke (Jenny). Good God.

Leaving the HOB, we were hungry. Earlier in the day, we’d noticed girls in line with bags of McDonald’s, and I’d remembered that we were really close to the Rock & Roll McDonald’s downtown. We had to be back at the #6 bus stop before 1:00AM, but we decided we had enough time for some greasy all-American goodness before heading back.


The Rock & Roll McDonald’s… complete with a stretch Hummer limo in front.


This McDonald’s has the creepiest statues I’ve ever seen.


“O HAI!”


I had no idea I was even in this picture. I was just seriously trying to figure out what the fuck was going on with this statue.


No clue what Jenny’s doing, but I’m pretty sure it’s wrong.


I’m on candid camera.


Ah, McDonald’s french fries… giving Americans a coronary one heart at a time.


“I like Diet Coke!”


A picture of the very first Ronald McDonald, which is almost as scary as the statues they had out front.



From McDonald’s, we retraced our steps, heading for the bus stop on the other side of the House of Blues. I’d estimate that it was roughly midnight, so the streets were still active, but not crowded. About halfway there on Dearbourne, we passed a group of three on the street. And one guy, apparently noticing my shirt and Jenny’s hat, suddenly shouted, “YEAH! Go Kentucky! Go Wildcats!”

So, of course we had to stop. “Yeah!” I shouted back. “Go Cats!”

“Are you from Kentucky?” one guy, the youngest, asked.

“Yes, we are!”

“Me, too! Where are you from?”

“Lexington!”

“ME, TOO!”

Turns out he works with horses at Keeneland. How strange is that? To run into someone from your relatively small city on the streets of downtown Chicago at midnight? Random. Although that happens to my dad ALL the time. He can go anywhere in the country and run into someone he knows.

We asked what he was doing in Chicago, and I don’t remember his answer, but Jenny and I discussed later how we were really glad that he didn’t ask us what we were doing in Chicago. Heh. We bade him goodbye and continued to the bus stop, ready to head home and get some rest for the next day.


Chicago #2 to come. :) Why am I so long-winded??